


Watered Down

by Todaywearesoldiers



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Granada Holmes, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-05 16:58:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16371536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Todaywearesoldiers/pseuds/Todaywearesoldiers
Summary: Holmes and Watson are called to a case on the English countryside. Fluff ensues.





	1. Chapter 1

Of all the cases we had encountered throughout the years, perhaps my most preferred were the ones in which my companion and I took to the countryside. The slower pace allowed Holmes’s mind to relax, and he relished in predicting the habits of each innkeeper and farmer. We pretended to be inconvenienced by cases that required us to leave London, but the change in scenery was often welcomed among us.

We walked the fields and trails as easily as we strolled along the city sidewalks of London. Holmes would lecture me on the different varieties of moss and their chemical compositions and perhaps even ask my professional opinion on its use in old medical remedies. I was satisfied in simply listening to my friend’s voice without interruption and helping the country-folk whose issues were often overlooked by London authorities. 

This case in particular had grabbed Holmes’s attention because of the Yard’s assurance that nothing was to be feared despite the citizens’ persistence that evil lurked among the townsfolk. The Yard was hardly to be blamed as the local authorities despised outside interference despite their incompetence. Legend told that the town was the most haunted in England. The lore originated with a fire that eradicated a wealthy family and their servants. Stories of their haunting over the town were told at every gathering and tavern. Thirty years later, isolated fires began occurring from seemingly no cause and killing or seriously disfiguring prominent individuals throughout the countryside. A letter was found at each scene, entirely blank except for the seal of the poor family who met the same fate so many years ago.

The daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Thomas J. Wessington arrived at our flat early one morning after catching the first train to London. This time, the seal was left on the door of the house, presumably as a warning. Her father had laughed at the matter, but Mrs. and Miss Wessington feared for their lives. Holmes had examined the seal for quite some time, testing the wax and studying the stamp under his magnifying lens before determining we must leave immediately.

With my walking stick in one hand and my other holding Holmes’s arm, we searched the fields overlooking the Wessington estate for any signs of footprints or other human life. Stopping within view of the front door, Holmes laid out the blanket he had wrapped around him and motioned for me to sit.

“We’ll rest here. We have just short of half an hour before Mrs. Wessington arrives and the advantage in height gives us a favorable view of both the stable house and the main entrance. You do have your revolver?”

I shot him a look but was contented with not asking why this was of importance. I was accustomed to receiving all the facts at the end of the case, when Holmes’s mind was clear and there was nothing more to do than sip whiskey and lounge by the fire.

I thought of the fire and our post-case relaxation that seemed so distant. The blanket did little to absorb the dampness of the ground or protect against the hardness of the earth. In this sea of grass animated by the chilled wind of the season, I longed for dryness and warmth. We want fires where they’re warranted and nature until it surrounds us. Everything in containment.

Holmes leaned into me, resting the back of his head against my chest and letting his eyes flutter shut. His body blocked the wind and sent warmth through my chilled figure. I wrapped him in the excess of my coat, knowing he was prone to colds and appreciating the contact in which was normally absent on cases.

“Warm enough?”

“Mmm, yes. Recite to me the facts, if you will.”

I slid my fingers into his hair with the attempt of a soothing hand and fixated my gaze on the road leading to the estate. With his warmth enclosed against my own, I began.

“The first fire occurred in…”


	2. Without Inhibition

For what felt more like an hour, we waited on the hill. I had shifted Holmes to where I could now rest my chin upon his hair. Eventually, a cart pulling Mrs. Wessington made its appearance, but we kept our position.

“Unfortunately, crimes such as these can only be proved in the act,” my companion sighed.

The house functioned as normal, showing no sign of a fire or distress. No one came in or out. Holmes pushed out of my coat and pulled his own tighter around his body. I inhaled sharply in the absence of his heat. Subconsciously, I reached for him, but he was already descending upon the house. I followed, the blanket waving behind me.

Holmes jogged through the gates of the house without hesitation and went to work measuring some prints found by the front door.

I gasped to regain my breath. “Anything?”

“Mr. Wessington is a large man, is he not?”

I thought back to the photograph Miss Wessington had shown us of her with her parents. He did tower over his wife and daughter who were of average height.

“Yes, I do believe him to be taller than me, maybe even you.”

“The length of this man’s gait is much shorter.”

“They have a considerable amount of help on the property. Servant? Stable hand?”

“No, no. These boots aren’t for that sort of work. They’re much more…uniform.”

Before I could reply, my face was pressed into the side of the house and my hands were being held behind my back. I made no struggle against my restraint out of a mix of surprise in the situation and comfort in knowing that Holmes remained free and unfettered in case he needed to come to my aid.

“Do release my good friend and colleague Dr. John Watson. I predict you could find nothing to link either of us to the crimes you’re investigating.” 

At the sudden removal of the pressure against my back, I stumbled to regain my footing and turned to face my capturer. In fact, two men stood behind me, Mr. Wessington and a police officer.

“Dr. Watson?” the officer asked. “Like in the stories?”

“That would be the one. And I am the detective Sherlock Holmes.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Holmes, I don’t rightly care who you are. You are interfering with an investigation and trespassing on this man’s property.”

Holmes turned his attention to Mr. Wessington. “You did decide to involve the police?”

Mr. Wessington spoke in a matter fitting for a man of his stature, with a rusty voice and certainty. “Yes, you know how it is. A man has to please the women sometimes.”

“A man who can’t please his wife, how very telling. Come along, Watson.”

I tipped my hat at the men, attempting to conceal my smirk. Holmes was already halfway down the drive, and I had to trot to keep up with his elongated gait. “You’re not staying on the case?”

He let out a sigh, sounding bored with the possibility. “Not formally, I suppose. But you would not object to staying in town for a few more days?”

It was unusual for Holmes to dismiss a case with peculiar facts such as these. I looked towards him, but his gaze remained fixed on the path that lay before us. As for myself, I was constricted only to his whim. 

“I’m yours, Holmes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow on Tumblr at https://todaywearesoldiers.tumblr.com/


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